Perfect
by RantingFangirl
Summary: This was perfect. Completely and utterly perfect.


It was perfect. Completely and utterly perfect. Alfred smiled, clapping his hands together, his fuzzy socks sliding on top of the shining and dirt-free hardwood floor. The artificial Christmas tree sitting in the middle of his living room stood tall and sparkling, what seemed like hundreds of ornaments of varied sizes, shapes, and themes hanging from its branches. Silver tinsel crisscrossed across the green before gathering to form a bow at the very top, Alfred being careful when decorating to not cover any ornaments or set the entire tree off kilter. Anything to prevent a reenactment of the previous year's disaster.

He glanced at the tree skirt- laced sewed into the edges, the main fabric expertly embroidered, a wonderful example of his grandmother's excellent handiwork- frowning when he noticed that it was ruffled and wrinkled. Alfred quickly fixed it, getting down on his knees and smoothing the edges to the floor and straightening the fabric that had been bunched up by the small hordes of gifts.

Still kneeling, he wiped the invisible dust off his dress slacks, whistling as he did so. "Damn, Matt. I did a great job."

The clamor of pots and pans in the kitchen went quiet, though Alfred could still hear the soft sizzle of whatever was on the stove out of last-minute meal preparation. He turned his head to meet Matthew's deadpan stare, holding in- but just barely- a snicker.

Matthew frowned, the gap between his eyebrows closing. He huffed, crossing his arms and pursing his lips in displeasure, a familiar way that Alfred had seen more times than not. "Did you mean that we did a good job?" He put extra emphasis on "we", and Alfred supposed that he wanted to make his mistake clear.

And he was right. Although Alfred had done most of the hard labor, such as carrying items of varying weight and risking the well-being of his limps to try and get those damn Christmas lights up outside, Matt had done most of the decorating inside. Numerous wreaths hung from small nails on the walls, including the silver and black one that had almost been too to fit on their front door. And even though they had no fireplace to hang them from, the stockings above the TV looked good where they were, filled to the brink and waiting for Christmas morning, when their parents would visit. The house certainly looked better than it would be if Alfred had been the only one decorating it, and his brother's help was highly appreciated.

Not that he would ever admit it, though.

Alfred smiled, trying to make it look innocent and unknowing. "Of course! What did I say?"

He hoped that Matthew would let him off the hook, that he would just roll his eyes in an, "Oh, Alfred, you poor fool!" type of way. But, of course, as his horrible luck would have it, Matthew shook his head as he pulled open the refrigerator.

"I could have sworn that you-" He pulled out a couple of bottles, along with the quarter-full jug of milk, before knocking the door shut with a swift bump of his hip. "-tried to take all of the credit for decorating our house. Y'know, the one we share and divide responsibilities for. Even when I was the one who cooked the food, decorated the inside, and cleaned up for this stupid party you've insisted on throwing."

Alfred was just about to open his mouth, just about to defend himself with a quickly thought-up and half-assed response when the doorbell rang. He jumped back up to his feet, prepared to walk over and answer it, but Matthew was already on it, giving him a perfect opportunity to state his case.

"You didn't cook all of it! I made-"

"Alfred, putting a pan of mac n' cheese in the oven, a pan of mac n' cheese that I prepared, if you recall, does not count as cooking."

He rolled his eyes, following his brother to the door. Matthew twisted the lock, pulling the handle back, and Alfred burst into a smile at who he saw on the other side of the screen door, ignoring the freezing cold that came with them.

Carefully holding two glass dishpans, the tops covered with wrinkled tin-foil, Ludwig Beilschmidt stood on the front stoop, his brother Gilbert next to him with a mountain of gift bags and wrapped presents hanging and stacked on his arms. The two stepped back as Matt pushed the door open, Alfred grinning as they stepped inside, shivering.

"Hey!" Alfred quickly moved forward, subtly pushing Matt out of the way to take the dish from Ludwig's hands. He curled his fingers around the bottom of the lower dishpan, pressing his thumb into the bunched up part of the tin-foil on the top one. It was warm, and he hummed with satisfaction, earning short, curious glances from the other three.

Turning around and heading towards the kitchen, Alfred carefully set the dishpans onto the counter, quietly listening to Matthew as he spoke with their first guests. Luckily, Gilbert was loud, just barely skimming Alfred's level, so his voice carried easily.

"Sorry if we're early. Somebody-" He put emphasis on the word, turning his attention to Ludwig for a quick second before continuing, "-though that we would be caught in heavy traffic. I, of course, knew that we wouldn't, but I didn't want to stop him."

Ludwig rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Matthew only smiled, offering to take the bags from Gilbert's hands. Alfred smirked, happy to know that he had remembered to perform his hosting duties before his brother. Returning back to the group, he patted Gilbert on the back, smiling in a way that he hoped to be reassuring.

"Nah, man. Y'all are fine, not too early." He checked his watch, wrinkling his nose a smidgen. Thirty minutes wasn't that bad, and it's not like they would've been doing anything besides sitting around and watching the artificial fireplace on their TV while waiting for someone to arrive.

Taking the bags from Gilbert that Matthew had not been able to carry, Alfred walking into the living room, setting the presents down as the other three walked in. Matthew followed suit while Gilbert whistled.

"Damn. That's a nice tree." Gilbert put his hands on his hips, glancing the Christmas tree up and down. Ludwig nodded, quickly saying his agreements.

Alfred smiled, crossing his arms together. He could practically feel Matthew's eyes roll, and was almost tempted to rub it in his face, if not for the two who were standing in front of them. "Thanks, man, but it's nowhere as good as yours."

And it was true. Gilbert's tree was almost ten times better than their short and skinny twig. He was shown a picture at work, at that moment of the day when people preferred slacking off and chatting while drinking coffee more than doing their jobs. Whereas theirs was a Christmas vomit of decades-old ornaments and tinsel that should have been replaced around five years ago, Gilbert's was a themed masterpiece. He and his girlfriend- who, sadly, could not be in attendance this year- had apparently spent hours getting it all into shape, with white at the bottom that slowly darkened and faded into silver, then blue, and then finally black at the very top.

It was almost enough to make him envious, especially when he went over to his house for Saturday night football last week, if only to check and see if the tree was actually real, and not just something they had ripped off Pinterest and cropped.

Gilbert smiled, beaming as if his tree, that he would only have up for a handful of weeks, was the pride of his life. "Don't outsell yours, though. Ludwig didn't even put one up this year."

They turned to Ludwig, who was picking a spot of lint off of his gray sweater with a slight wrinkle on his nose. Eventually, after a few moments of silence, he looked up, shrugging. "I don't want those green things stuck in my carpet."

Gilbert deadpanned while Alfred nodded, silently agreeing while the former only huffed.

The room fell silent for a moment, Alfred waiting for someone to start another conversation topic. When no one stepped up to the pedestal to take up the opportunity, he clapped his hands, rubbing them together. "So, what did y'all make?"

Ludwig grinned, seeming happy to inform them that they had made schnitzel and chestnut stuffing, and a lot of it at that.

After that, with the dishpans being put in the oven to prevent them from becoming lukewarm, they sat around, talking and watching the various Christmas movies that had been airing that evening. Gilbert and Ludwig had, at first, offered to help Matthew finish cooking, but his brother had waved them out of the kitchen, saying that all they needed to do now was clean up.

As the clock ticked towards the designated beginning time- seven seeming more reasonable than thirty minutes later or earlier- more guests began showing up. The counter was quickly filled with various dishes, Alfred eying one of the containers of dessert that Francis had brought, already silently claiming one of the stacked cookies.

Feliciano Vargas was the last one to show up, as he usually was when they had any events with colleagues such as this one, but still arrived relatively earlier than he was expected to. While he let Alfred take his gift bags from him, Feliciano insisted on bringing the food he brought to the kitchen, saying his greetings to everyone on his way there.

"Arthur, I trust that you didn't actually make what you brought?" He grinned, setting the dish- this time in a ceramic pan- and snapping the top off from the bottom. Alfred peeked over the top, earning a warning look from his brother, but a smile from Feliciano. He nodded, pleased with the sight of the dish, though he had no idea what it was. Alfred cringed, gagging when he was told that it was octopus salad.

The man in question, Arthur, was sitting in the living room, cradling a bottle of water, talking to Francis, who sat in the cubicle across from Alfred's. At the mention of his name, he paused, turning his attention to those in the kitchen.

In a typical Arthur fashion, he frowned, taking a short sip of his drink. Behind him, Francis smirked, shaking his head, knowing as well as Alfred did what the direction of his response was going to be.

"No, I didn't actually make it. I went to Costco, bought a shepherd's pie, and I popped it in the oven before coming here. Happy?"

Feliciano didn't even try to seem embarrassed for him, smiling and sticking his tongue out towards Arthur as the others laughed. Alfred chuckled, shaking his head, and when he spoke, it was in a joking and teasing tone, one that even Arthur and the monstrous stick up his ass would be able to see. "I don't know if we should eat it, guys. He might've poisoned it, for all we know."

From his position in the corner of the couch, Gilbert joined in, his loud voice ringing through the floor. "The last time I ate anything he touched, I had to call in sick for a week."

Arthur sneered, though, even from as far away as Alfred was in the kitchen, he could tell that there was more amusement in it than malice. Crossing his leg over his knee, Arthur leaned back into the couch, his sneer lifting into more of a sarcastic smirk. "No, Gilbert. You were out that one week because you decided that it would be a good idea to have multiple rounds of sex with your girlfriend while she had the influenza virus."

Ludwig turned to Gilbert, who was turning into a bright, cherry red color, his eyebrows knitting together in more annoyance than surprise. "You told me that you had vacation days to spend or it wouldn't get rolled over for the next quarter!"

Gilbert opened his mouth to defend himself, only for Arthur to swiftly cut him off. "Lies! He was bitching about it for the next month."

Alfred laughed before standing, pushing his chair back into its place at the dining room table. He quickly closed the short distance between the kitchen and the living room, standing in front of the TV. Knowing he had to put a stop to the current conversation before it turned into an all-out verbal brawl- which, knowing Arthur and Francis were here, would surely happen- he made sure to be loud and clear as he spoke.

"All right! Who's hungry?"

Grumbling, Arthur stood, setting his bottle on the end table in front of his seat, clearly claiming the spot. Francis followed suit, choosing to keep his drink with him, mumbling something to Gilbert that was too quiet for Alfred to hear. Whatever it was, it had both of them smiling, so Alfred supposed that it was better than what it could've been.

Before he entered the kitchen, Matthew put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight. "Good save, man."

He smiled, shallowly shaking his head. The ringing of jumbled silverware and the clacking of porcelain plates sounded, along with the jabs and laughter that were characteristics of lively banter. Alfred chuckled. "Nah, nothing serious would've happened. And if something did happen, then Ludwig or Francis would've changed the subject. This happens all the time."

Matthew patted his back, dragging his hand across the back of his sweater before letting his arm fall to his side, before making his way to the kitchen. Alfred stood back for a couple minutes, letting everyone get situated. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his dress slacks, Alfred watched the guests, frowning when he noticed one standing back and watching everyone.

Though they were on opposite sides of the floor, Alfred had the wonderful gift of sitting with Kiku at lunch every day. The man was quiet, something unusual among the people where they worked- especially in their specific department- but he was an excellent conversationalist, one that he looked forward to speaking to every weekday.

"Hey, Kiku! Doing well?" He smiled as Kiku nodded.

"I'm fine. How are you?" Kiku waited until Alfred replied, saying that he was feeling great, before continuing. "Thank you for inviting me. You have a beautiful home."

Alfred beamed at the compliment. "Aw, thanks, man! No problem." It might've been obligatory, something that you had to say to someone when you were at their house or else it would be a breach of manners, but it was a compliment nonetheless. He scratched the back of his neck, wrapping his fingers around and squeezing tight. Kiku returned his attention to those in the kitchen, and Alfred remembered what he was going to say.

"So, what're you doing all the way back here? You're missing stuff!"

Kiku only spared him a quick glance, pulling and straightening the bunched up fabric of his cardigan. He folded up his hands over his stomach, and Alfred mimicked the action. Which only yielded an amused sigh.

"I dislike larger groups of people. It gets crowded and loud, to the point where I'd much rather stand back and wait for everyone to finish and let the congestion clear up."

Alfred nodded, pursing his lips into a fine line, feeling sympathetic towards his friend. "Ah, not much of a crowd person." He knew that that was almost literally what Kiku had just said, but it filled up what would've been an awkward and uncomfortable return to silence.

The kitchen started to empty, the ones who had gotten in first quickly leaving and returning to their seats in the living room. Even in the corner, Matthew's scolding tone was clear, along with the handful of snorts and snickers that followed. "Alfred, stop acting like a leech and let poor Kiku get some food!"

He didn't even try arguing or defending himself, knowing that it would be a losing battle. Alfred turned to Kiku, who had a small, amused smile on his face, and sent him a pitying glance. Kiku shook his head, huffing as he walked into the kitchen, immediately pounced on and greeted by his fellow guests. Matthew handed him a plate, which he carefully took, hugging it to his chest and leaning against the counter, watching as everyone finished serving themselves.

Per Matthew's orders, he and Alfred had to be the last to get their food. He was okay with it, Alfred told himself, watching with a smile as Feliciano timidly crept towards the shepherd's pie that Arthur had brought, staring at it for a few seconds before slowly and cautiously reaching for the serving spoon.

When the kitchen was finally empty, Alfred snatched a plate from Matthew's hands, greedily scanning for what he was going to pile on his plate first. Matthew sighed, pursing his lips into a fine line when Alfred stuck his tongue out at him.

Alfred decided to get a little bit of each, the food on his plate mixing and layering on top of each other. He stopped before the octopus salad, lowering his head to stare at the empty spot on his plate reserved for it. Taking a step back, quickly looking around to make sure he wouldn't bump into Matthew, Alfred yelled out to the living room. "Hey, has anyone tried any of this octopus salad yet?"

Hushed whispers and murmurs broke out as he stared at the bowl. Alfred shivered, imagining the tentacles sliding and slithering down his throat, gagging at the thought of one of those suction cup thingies getting stuck in his throat. He cringed, earning a strange look from Matthew, but he ignored it.

"Yes! It's delicious!"

Alfred knew exactly who the person who shouted out was and quickly returned a reply. "You were the one who made it, Feliciano. Your opinion doesn't count in this."

He received a smack on the shoulder from his brother, along with the mouthed words, "Are you kidding me?" He smiled, rolling his eyes as he reached for the serving spoon. This time, however, when he smacked some onto his plate, he made sure that none of his other food would touch it, gently using his finger to nudge his cookies- chocolate dipped and sprinkled, looking like glittering little masterpieces- out of the way.

When he sat down and started eating, Alfred intentionally saved the octopus salad for last. When time was nearing when he would have to eat it, he quickly got up, topping off his drink just in case he needed it.

Sliding his fork under, Alfred lifted up a healthy amount, eying it with various levels of disgust and fear. Arthur, who sat next to him, snorted, pushing his own unfinished food around with his fork. "It's not going to brutally kill you, you know."

Letting his fork plop down onto the plate, earning several glances due to the clatter, Alfred frowned. "How do you know that?"

Lightly pushing Arthur's back against the couch, Francis leaned over, tsking and shaking his head. "Feliciano's made it before. He brought it to the office potluck a couple months ago."

Alfred looked Francis up and down, ignoring Arthur as he tried to shove the latter away from his personal space. He raised an eyebrow, suspiciously glancing at his plate and then at Feliciano. "I didn't see it?"

"Because it was gone by the time you decided to grace us with your wonderful presence."

Arthur snorted, finally seeing the opportunity to push him away and sit up, the two going into their own conversation. Alfred thought to join in, but decided not to, as it quickly turned to gossip- Francis providing, Arthur seeming to be only half listening- of a department that he wasn't too familiar with.

Taking a deep breath, Alfred grabbed his fork, digging it into the salad. Lifting it up to eye-level, he stared at it, at the limp tentacles and parsley. Taking a deep, slow breath, Alfred shoved it into his mouth, not giving himself time to register the taste or the texture. Alfred grabbed another forkful, cringing, and then another and another, until every single bit of it was gone. Gilbert watched him with an amused smirk, laughing as Alfred reached for his coke, sucking in all of it, along with a few ice cubes, to wash away any possible aftertaste. Feliciano didn't seem to notice, happily having a conversation with Ludwig about increasing rent prices.

Setting his plate and cup on the end table, both giving a slight rattle, Alfred jumped up from his seat on the couch, clapping his hands together He yelled out a quick, "Delicious!" before making his way to the front of the living room, right in front of the TV.

By then, everyone was watching him, whispering to themselves. Alfred smiled, supposing that they were trying to figure out what wild shenanigan he was going to pull next, wishing to see the looks on their faces when they realized that there wasn't going to be one.

Matthew stared at him, his eyebrows slowly knitting together. He leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms. Alfred winked, something that he hoped would reassure him that he was not about to do anything stupid, but from the replied expression, it was obvious that the sentiment was not received.

"Hey, guys!" It didn't take long for the living room to fall silent, multiple pairs of eyes drilling into him, a few more exasperated than others. "So, first off, I wanna thank y'all for coming. Especially on such short notice." A small bit of laughter, Alfred blowing out his cheeks and letting the air flow out. He'd only remembered to give out the invitations three days before the party, half of those invited not being able to make it due to other plans. It was fine, though, it was his fault, and those that were currently there were more than enough company. "So, uh, yeah. Sorry about that."

He clasped his hands behind his back, kicking at the hardwood floor. Alfred bopped his head side to side, trying to think of something else to say. A short speech was planned, or, he was the one who planned it, but Alfred had forgotten to work on what exactly he was going to say. Not that it mattered, anyway. His friends were used to it.

"But anyways, thanks for coming! I'm gonna go put on 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' and we're gonna open some gifts!" Alfred pumped both of his fists up in the air, receiving a series of whoops and hollers- namely from Gilbert- in return.

Matthew smiled, setting his plate on the end table, a few following his lead. As Alfred grabbed the TV remote, quickly pulling his phone from his back pocket to check the time, he listened to Matthew, barely paying attention.

"Remember, everyone, that we still have a lot of food left. Just because we're opening up presents doesn't mean that you have to stop eating." He smiled, looking around as he spoke.

Though he received a lot of nods and smiles, no one looked like they were going to get up, most leaning back in their seats and getting comfortable.

Bracing his hands on his knees, Matthew stood, throwing his arms up in a stretch. He stepped over to Alfred, lowering his voice a tiny bit. "I'm gonna go get a couple trash bags for all the wrapping paper and tissue paper." Alfred let out a quick okay, messing with the buttons on the remote and scrolling through the menu in search of the desired movie.

"Does anyone know the channel number for ABC?"

Ludwig, thankfully, had it memorized.

The living room quickly turned into a graveyard of wrapping paper and gift bags, a small stack of presents piled up next to each person. They took turns opening gifts, going around in a set circle, several gasps and oohs of awe coming after each item.

Arthur had just finished pulling out an all-purpose sewing kit, a gift from Kiku, complete with forty-eight different colors of thread. Or so the box claimed. He flipped it over, reading the back, a small grin spreading across his face. "Thank you so much."

Kiku nodded, smiling as well, but he was quickly over-shadowed by Gilbert, who cackled. "Oh my god, Arthur. Now when you say that you're going to sew someone's mouth shut, you can actually be serious about it!" Several chuckles, Alfred being among them.

The smile on Arthur's face was short-lived, turning into a frown. He rolled his eyes, clutching the edges of the box, huffing with a tone of displeasure. "Trust me, Gilbert. I won't be wasting this on you fools." He ignored the laughter that stemmed from it, setting the box on his lap, and turned his attention to Kiku. "Thank you, Kiku. I really appreciate this."

Leaning down, Alfred grunted as his belt dug into his stomach, quickly grabbing his next gift. It was expertly wrapped, not a single out of place crease or wrinkle, the wrapping paper depicting penguins skiing and playing in the snow. He grinned, his smile growing wider when he read the tag, recognizing the chicken scratch that was Ludwig's handwriting.

"From Ludwig!" He scooted up in his seat, Ludwig bracing his elbows on his knees. Gilbert perked up, raising his head in a way that reminded Alfred of an ostrich.

Carefully slipping his finger under the main crease, Alfred lifted up the tape, biting his bottom lip. Normally, he wouldn't take so much time, especially when going over to any of his family's houses, but it was different in front of colleagues. Very different.

Finally, after about a solid minute, the wrapping paper was off, Alfred bunching it up and tossing it into the trash bag in the corner. It was a book, one with a shiny and glossy cover, the pages thick and colored. He gripped he spine, reading the cover aloud. "The Complete Coding Manual for Dummies." He paused, looking up into space for a quick second, before turning his attention to Ludwig. "Is there something that you need to say about my work performance," he said with what he hoped was a visible hint of amusement in his voice, "Mr. Beilschmidt?"

The color in Ludwig's cheeks was quickly taken over by red, Gilbert snickering and shaking his head. He raised his hands, moving them in short waves as he tried to clear up his mistake. "No, no! I just thought that you could learn something new from it!"

Alfred grinned, just barely keeping himself from breaking out into laughter. A few seconds later, however, he let go, leaving into the couch and hugging his stomach tight. Ludwig let out a relieved sigh, shaking his head, as Gilbert reached into his own pile for a candy-cane themed gift bag. He tugged out the pink tissue paper, bunching it up into a ball and setting it next to his thigh.

Gilbert yelled out with joy as he pulled out a black t-shirt, reading the text on it before turning it around so everyone else could see the text on it. "Francis, how did you know?"

Francis shrugged, and Alfred could only continue laughing, this time for a totally different reason.

This was perfect. Completely and utterly perfect.

* * *

Hey! I made this for a Secret Santa event on Tumblr! The optional prompts were "Platonic FrUk", "Platonic UsUk", and "GerItaPan gift exchange", so I just went ahead and mushed them all together! I hope you enjoyed!


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